


Chlorine Gas

by Threefingeredfool



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Oneshot, Prompt Fic, Theatre, plays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:20:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22114768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threefingeredfool/pseuds/Threefingeredfool
Summary: Finally, John bought the tickets. It had taken him over a month to sneak enough money away from Sherlock. Even if the tickets were forty euros, Sherlock just had to have the new beaker set. John. Oh, John. How am I supposed to mix bleach and ammonia safely without the new set, John? John, oh, John. Don’t you care at all?He was so sick of Sherlock.-------------------------For the prompt:The Hero is enjoying a wonderful day off at their local theatre. The show is going great, but halfway through the Hero spots the Villain watching from the rafters.Credit for the prompt goes to Kat @zigzagzipwriting (her Tumblr) who posted this as a mod on _writing_ideas_ on Instagram and its counterpart writing-ideas-inc on Tumblr
Kudos: 3





	Chlorine Gas

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to do some writing practice but was a bit too lazy to make up my own characters so I made it fit Sherlock. Enjoy!

Finally, John bought the tickets. It had taken him over a month to sneak enough money away from Sherlock. Even if the tickets were forty euros, Sherlock just  _ had _ to have the new beaker set. John. Oh, John. How am I supposed to mix bleach and ammonia safely without the new set, John? John, oh, John. Don’t you care at all?

He was so sick of Sherlock.

This play would be exactly what he needed. A quiet night without no know-it-all to ruin it with his sarcastic remarks. It was on Sunday the week after the next. He could survive until then, right? 

“John! Anderson is going to stink up the crime scene if we don’t get there in the next 14 minutes! He’ll ruin everything with his contagious idiocy!” 

He would. Through pure force of will if it came down to it. 

“I’m coming!”

The day had come. 

The play, Othello, was to start at 2:30 pm and end at 6:30. After act 3, there was a 30-minute break to buy food from the nearby stands however John had still brought his own food. He was going to have a relaxing time watching Iago the traitor do his thing. Which was mainly being a traitor. 

He woke up early to get ready for the play. He wasn’t too sure what would need to be done to get ready exactly. He had already decided dinner would be from home but that was later. He just thought getting up early might be a good start. 

He sat down in his chair with a cup of tea in his hand. There were still several hours before they opened the doors for seating so another chapter of his Adventures with Sherlock would be posted early it seemed. Unless, of course, he was interrupted by a certain someone. 

“John.” 

“Yes, Sherlock?”

“Make me tea.”

“Do it yourself.”

“But John,” Sherlock whined from his sprawled position on the couch.

“But what?” 

“You make it better.”

John rose from his seat. “Oh Golly, Sherlock, you know just what to say to make a girl happy.” He dumped his cold tea down the sink and got out another teacup. It was convenience. He was already going to make himself a cup of tea and it was no hassle to make two instead of one. It was not because Sherlock had asked him to. Not at all.

John handed the now sitting Sherlock the teacup. “Here.” Sherlock nodded and took a sip. John settled back into his chair and started editing the new chapter. It wasn’t done but the words had stopped flowing so the alternative he chose was a different kind of productivity. Just as he was about to wrap up the first half, his alarm went off. It was twelve by now. He still had plenty of time but he wanted to be early so he could get comfortable in his seat before the play started. 

He packed up his laptop and hobbled over to the kitchen. He was getting too old to sit in an armchair for too many hours in a row. He made two simple sandwiches, beef for lunch and turkey for dinner, then changed into what he had set out the night before, said goodbye to Sherlock and made his way to the theatre. It wasn’t a long walk and the weather was being decent. Overall, a good start to a good experience. 

The line wasn’t too short but he didn’t mind. He made it inside under fifteen minutes and he still had ten minutes till the play started. He followed the signs and made his way to his section. It was an extravagant theatre that you would expect Mozart to have performed in if it wasn’t for its small size. He walked through the rows and must have apologised at least twenty times before he made it even close to his seat. When he found his seat it already had a scarf and a hat on it. He hadn’t noticed until he was standing right in front of it. All the awkward hop-shuffles to avoid bags and people had kept all his attention. 

He cleared his throat and got the attention of the stranger who it all clearly belonged to. Initially, he hadn’t been able to see who they were but now that they had lowered the ridiculously oversized newspaper it was quite clear. 

“Brilliant.”

“You say that a lot,” said Sherlock. 

John pinched his nose and took a deep breath. This was his night. His! He was going to enjoy it no matter what kind of fuckery took place. He grabbed the scarf and hat and dumped it on Sherlock. 

Sherlock gave him the look. You know the one. The what-is-wrong-with-you-Anderson and the I-did-this-for-a-reason-so-don’t-ruin-it-Anderson in one. Quite the popular combination these days. 

He sat down and plopped his bag between his legs. There were only minutes till the play started so he got comfortable, put his phone on silent and ignored the man sat beside him. Or tried to. 

“How did you find out about the play anyway?” asked John.

“I looked at your browsing history. Not exactly rocket science,” said Sherlock.

“Then how did you know to look? I don’t exactly go to plays every day,” said John. The seats had started to fill up completely at this point and it was obvious that the play would start soon.

“You seemed more relaxed that day and usually you let me buy things if it’ll keep us alive.” Sherlock shuffled and stretched out his legs. “You owe me eighty.”

“Eighty?! I only used forty for the ticket!” Multiple people shushed John as a man appeared on stage to introduce the production. John ducked his head and sunk into his chair. 

“It’s forty for your ticket and another forty for my ticket,” Sherlock said primly before turning his attention to the stage. The play had begun. 

John shook his head softly in an attempt to compose himself. Sherlock probably had no idea what this play was even about. He still didn’t know why Sherlock was even here. Just because he knew that John would be going to a play didn’t mean he had to join him. John copied Sherlock as Iago and Roderigo walked onto the stage and the play officially began. 

“I cannot believe Roderigo was enough of a git to fight Cassio! He did present himself as an idiot but you’d think he’d have some kind of self-preservation. And Emilia must see what her husband is doing! How can she ignore all that?” John bit his sandwich angrily and continued to simmer where he sat. They were halfway through their break and he had been discussing the play for the majority of it. Most of the audience had moved out of the theatre to grab food so it was mostly empty which gave the two of them plenty of privacy. 

“It is odd that no one can tell what Iago’s plans are. It’s quite obvious when you start looking at what-” John shushed him. Sherlock looked like he’d sniffed something rotten. John decided to make him look like that more often. 

“I don’t want you spoiling the play, Sherlock.”

“But you did a report on this play when you were younger. You already know everything that’s going to happen so there’s no point in holding back information.” Sherlock said biting into his own — John’s second — sandwich.

“I don’t remember enough from then that it still feels new.” John finished off his sandwich and wiped his hands on his handkerchief. “What do you think so far?”

Sherlock chewed for a second before swallowing and answering. “I like the dynamic between Iago and Othello. Othello’s complete trust in him is stupid but it’s similar to you. Iago is wasting that trust so utterly and completely and I don’t know how Othello came to like Iago but it is easy to see that their friendship outweighs his love for his wife.” He took another bite. 

“I guess you could look at it that way but Iago does also present Othello evidence that his wife isn’t faithful where he isn’t presented with any that Iago is the real traitor. The trust that Othello has in what Iago is saying could also come from seeing the facts laid out in front of him rather than the friendship that Othello thinks they have. Although you do have a point about Iago wasting the trust that-” Sherlock shushed John. 

“The play is starting again.” Sherlock smiled smugly. John disregarded his earlier decision. 

“That was absolute bollocks! That ending was terrible!” John said as they strolled back to their apartment. The breeze was cool but not enough to cool John’s steaming head. “None of the characters deserved what was coming except for Iago and he deserved more than triple what he got! I can’t believe we don’t see what happened to him afterwards! I want to see him be punished for all the death he caused!” John shook his head. “I forgot just how tragic this play was.”

“The ending was quite predictable.” 

John looked at him incredulously. “You predicted Othello killing himself? Emilia getting stabbed by Iago? Cassio dying? Roderigo dying? You predicted all that?”

“Othello was going to die no matter what. Emilia cared for Desdemona even if she didn’t know what she was doing at the time once she understood she would reveal Iago’s plans and Iago doesn’t seem the type to forgive. Iago didn’t like Cassio and Roderigo was too hooked on every word out of Iago’s mouth to deny him anything,” said Sherlock. “So yes, it made sense and was quite predictable.”

John shook his head for what felt like the fifth time that night. Of course, Sherlock could predict the ending of a play that he had never seen before while John sat there surprised at every turn. 

“Did you know the play before you bought your ticket for it?” asked John. 

“No,” Sherlock responded while John unlocked the door. 

“Do you know who Shakespeare is?” John asked. They were quiet as they went up the stairs so as to not disturb Mrs Hudson. 

Once they locked their door Sherlock answered. “He’s the writer of Othello.”

“Tea?” John asked as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Yes, please,” said Sherlock. It wasn’t the end of the day and yet they were getting ready for it. John was making the last tea for the day and Sherlock was starting to get bored with consciousness. John considered it a success as far as anything with Sherlock went. Even if his time-without-Sherlock became a part of his time-with-Sherlock he hadn’t minded. It still felt like the break it was supposed to be. 

He brought the tea to Sherlock who was sitting on the couch and sat himself down at his desk. Maybe it would be worth going to another play in the coming weeks. He browsed through the list of options.

“Hey Sherlock.”

“Yes, John.”

“Do you know who wrote Romeo and Juliet?” John asked. 

“No, although you’re very heavily implying that it’s Shakespeare,” said Sherlock. There was a brief pause.

“Would you like to see it next week?”

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> bleach and ammonia make chlorine gas which is quite fatal to breathe in so Sherlock has a point about better equipment :)  
> Drop a comment, like a kudos and subscribe to the bell button!


End file.
